stay close
by swirling-summernotes
Summary: This is a place where I feel at home. /louisOC
1. Chapter 1

author's note: stop what you're doing and eat a piece of chocolate.

* * *

_Love was good. I loved your crooked sleep beside me and never dreamed afraid. _

* * *

Stella Nott's favourite words that were ever spoken to her were by her mother. Everyday as a little girl, her mama would brush her dark hair and tie it with a blue ribbon. And everyday she would lean in real close, so close that Stella could smell her perfume and her makeup and mint toothpaste, so close that she could feel mama's heartbeat, and she would whisper, "I like you, Stella-girl. I like you a lot." And Stella would giggle and squirm because her dolly needed to be tended to, but somehow her mother would manage to press a red lipstick kiss to her cheek before she got away.

Even as Stella played with her dolly and read her stories, and played with her blocks, her mother's words would keep her warm throughout the day. I am liked. Someone likes me.

As Stella got older, those words stayed close to her heart. To like someone, like, not love, to get down on the deepest level of a person's soul, to look at the messiest parts of a human's existence and to say _I like you_ – sometimes that was harder than the three words and eight letters sentence that had somehow become linked to red roses and junk food.

* * *

Sometimes people would ask how it felt to be a Nott, and Stella would lean her head to the side and shrug. She wanted to say, it feels like blood running through my veins and it feels like air in my lungs and it feels like bends in my bones, just the same as you. But she didn't. She would just blink her big blue eyes.

One person who never, ever asked her what is was like to be a Nott was a boy. A boy she met when she was twelve years old. A boy who was her age, who had a very nice laugh and a very nice smile. A boy who ended up touching her soul, but she never realized just how much until she looked behind her. But that didn't happen until much, much later.

At twelve years old, they would sit by the fire together in their common rooms, writing letters to their families and laughing and eating chocolate covered cherries. Sometimes they would sit in silence. Sometimes they would talk.

Chocolate covered cherries are very important for friendships.

* * *

Once, when she was fifteen, Louis and her were climbing the stairs to Ravenclaw tower. They reached the top of the stairs, and Louis breathed in air, but released no words. They made their way into the common room and let the fire warm them and Stella wrapped a blanket around herself and Louis formed words over the air he had breathed out.

"Don't leave."

And because it was a very strange thing for a fifteen year old boy to say, partially because it had nothing to with Quidditch and partially because Stella never realized that maybe boys felt things too, she said okay. Okay, I won't.

As she got older, Stella realized that some people never really leave you. Some people stay with you forever, their skin becomes part of your skin and their words become your words and even if you up and ran, even if you scrubbed your skin so hard it turned raw, they would not leave. Because people are not ink that slides away with water, and people can't be separated by the vast bodies of water that separate entire countries.

* * *

Louis taught her a lot of things. He taught her a lot of things without even knowing. He taught her about life, and family, and about what to keep close. And he didn't need words to do it, either. And for that, Stella admired him for the rest of her life.

One morning, when she was sixteen years old, she sat down to breakfast. Her hair wasn't curling properly, and her eyes were tired. There were stacks of homework waiting for her after classes and her relationship with Eric Longbottom was feeling rockier than ever. Also, she was pretty sure her period was coming, because just last night she almost cried when she dropped her quill.

She propped her chin on her forehead and gave Louis a nod in greeting. He smiled at her, continuing to shovel bacon into his mouth at an increasingly fast rate. He was conversing with Fred on the benefits of the latest model of broomstick, something that Stella couldn't even pretend to know anything about.

Picking lightly at her breakfast, she contemplated leaving the table early. Just as she was about to stand, Louis locked his eyes on hers. Grabbing an empty cup, and he poured orange juice into her cup and slid the drink across the table.

Stella took the drink from his hand and raised it in thanks.

Three things were important about his actions, three things she filed in her mind and never forgot. The first thing, was that he noticed. The second thing was that he cared. And the third thing was that even though the pumpkin juice was right beside the orange juice, even though he could've reached for the pumpkin juice, the yucky, smelly, disgusting pumpkin juice, he gave her orange. Because he remembered.

* * *

author's note: thank you for taking the time to read this, it's very much appreciated. This is not the end - there will be three or four more continuing this. I'm not sure how many yet. Stella has grown on me so deeply, and I hope you learn to love her as much as I do.


	2. Chapter 2

author's note: usually I write Stella older than Lily, but I felt they needed to be friends. So here you go.

* * *

_There should be stars for great wars like ours_

* * *

"So I was thinking," Lily said as she sat down next to her on the couch, "that we should take a trip."

Stella looked up from the letter that she was writing to her mother and stared at Lily with a mix of curiosity and intrigue. Lily was always planning and scheming, and Stella had the feeling that this was another one of her many bold ideas.

"A trip?" Stella repeated. "As in, a vacation?"

"Yes!" Lily clapped her hands. "It would so much fun. It's our last year – we need something to send it off with a bang."

"I don't know, Lil.. we seem pretty young to be going anywhere by ourselves just yet." Stella pulled down a blue blanket from the back of the couch and wrapped it around her. Setting her letter aside, she curled her nylon-clad toes on the edge of couch and rested her chin on her knees. Sleepy conversation from her fellow Ravenclaws were drifting around the dark common room.

Lily rolled her eyes at her. "Don't be such a worrywart, Stell. Listen, I'll talk to my parents and see what they think, and we'll go from there." She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Even if they say no, I think I have a way of going around them. Anyway, it shouldn't be too hard." She loosened her green and silver tie, her eyes lit with excitement of a new plan.

"Who would come with us?" Stella inquired.

"I was thinking just you and me. Oh, maybe Dominique if she's up for it. We'll see."

Stella felt a glow in her tummy. Lily Potter was one of those girls who you wanted to be around simply because her tendency to not sit still made for good adventures. Stella always liked the idea of adventuring. Dominique was nineteen and beautiful. Lily and Dominique together were pair like no other, and Stella loved being with the two.

Lily, she had come to realize, was more than just crazy hair and brash ideas. An avid smoker and a black nail polish tendency gave her a harsh reputation. But Stella had come to realize that Lily was softer than everyone realized. She liked that. She likes although Lily was rough edges and wild laughs, deep, deep down she had a larger heart than most.

A pair of hands encompassed her shoulders, and she wrapped her hands the wrists of the person, trying to feel who it was. "It's me, Stella-girl," said Louis. He flicked her head lightly with his forefinger and thumb, before walking around the couch and sitting on the rug in front of it.

"So," he said, rolling up the sleeves of shirt and loosening his tie," what'd I miss?"

"We're going on a trip," replied Lily casually.

Louis snorted. "Yeah, right. Your parents are not letting you go anywhere, not with your track record this past year, Potter." He leaned back on his forearms. "Where do you even want to go?"

"Shut up, Weasley. I'm going on that trip. And Stella's coming with me." Lily ignored his last question.

Louis looked at her and leaned his head to the side, a teasing grin on his face. "That so?"

Stella lifted her chin defiantly and nodded. "Yeah, it's true." She fiddled with the thin gold band on her middle finger as she spoke.

He held her gaze for awhile before looking away, nodding his head. "All right, then. Okay."

Lily interrupted them with a request to go down to the kitchen for snack, and the three of them traipsed down to the portrait of the pears.

* * *

That night, Stella lay awake, unable to sleep. She tossed and turned underneath her royal blue duvet until she could bear it no longer. Kicking the duvet off of her, she swung herself over the edge of the bed and tip-toed her way into the boy's dormitory. The door creaked slightly as she opened it, and the clock on the wall that was illuminated by the moon told her it was three o'clock in the morning.

Pushing back the hangings of the bed closest to the door and swinging them shut again, she climbed in next to the sleeping figure of Louis. His back was towards her, his form rising and falling slowly. Stella lay on her back beside him, snuggling underneath the warm comforter, cuddling deeper into the soft pillows. The thought of someone dreaming so close beside her gave her comfort, and she slipped into sleep very easily.

She woke the next morning to someone softly calling her name. Rolling over, she came face to face with Louis, who was now on his stomach, two arms underneath his pillow. His eyes were clouded over with sleep and she fought the urge to push his hair back from his face.

"What're you doing in here, Stell?" Louis asked, not unkindly, just curiously.

She shrugged. "I got lonely," she said simply. "Couldn't sleep." He gave her a lopsided grin and pushed back her dark hair from her face. She closed her eyes and snuggled under the covers, closer to her best friend.

They spent the day together, jut the two of them, something that hadn't happened in a very long time. They headed down to the Black Lake and rolled up the ankles of their jeans and splashed in the water. The day was grey and cloudy but no rain fell from the sky. Stella kicked droplets of water onto Louis, and he pretended to be offended, but instead he just swung her around by her waist until she was laughing so hard that she couldn't breathe.

Afterwards, they sprawled out on their backs underneath a tree by the Lake. "So, you're really taking this trip with Lily?"

Stella shrugged. "I guess so. It'll be fun. I think your sister might come, too." She turned her head to stare at him. "Why? Are you worried I wont ever come back?" She asked him in a teasing tone, with a hint of seriousness behind it.

"No," Louis said, "you'd never do that," with such assurance to his tone that it was then Stella realized that maybe it really was possible to know someone better than you know yourself.

* * *

Lily somehow convinced her parents to let them take their trip, and so, on July 3rd, fresh from Hogwarts and leaving behind all the responsibilities that come with school they set off on a Muggle airplane for the adventure of a lifetime. Or something like that.

"Explain again," Stella said as she popped a red sweet into her mouth, "why we're taking an airplane all the way to California?"

Lily shrugged, her head deep in a Muggle fashion magazine. "More fun. It's different. Wasn't the airport cool, though? I don't think I've ever seen so many Muggles in one place." Lily dropped her voice to a whisper on the last part. Stella had to admit – it was cool, seeing the Muggle airport. Everything was so shiny and silver and so Muggle that it had almost made her head hurt, but not quite.

The plane jolted, and Stella gripped her blue-painted fingertips to the seat, reminding herself to breathe. The airplanes, she decided, were not quite as cool as the airports.

Finally, finally, they touched down in California. Lilly pushed the shade of the window open, and Stella had to blink her eyes against the sun.

"Oh, my God," Lily exclaimed, "it's so bright out there!" Her red hair tumbled down her back like fire, and Stella leaned closer to the window to get a peek of sunny California, nerves and excitement jumbling in her stomach like a whirlwind of butterflies.

* * *

Two weeks after they'd been in California, Stella was sitting on her hotel room bed with her feet propped up on the wall above the headboard, reading a worn copy of Emily Dickinson poetry.

"Come on, Stell, we're going out tonight," Lily said, slamming the door to the hotel room and kicking off her flip-flops. She sat down at the mirror and started playing with her newly ombre'd hair, twisting it into a plait. Stella rolled over onto her stomach and set the book aside. "Where are we going?" Stella asked.

"I met a boy at the ice-cream shop not far from here – you know the one we went to on Tuesday? He said him and a bunch of his friends are having a bonfire on the beach tonight, and that we should join them. Naturally, I said yes." Lily replied, and began coating her eyelashes with mascara.

"I don't know, Lil – I'm not really up for it tonight," Stella said. She rolled over onto her back once more and examined her feet that were propped up against the wall. She wiggled her painted toes – magenta, Lily had called it – and waited for her friend to reply.

"Yes, actually, you are up for it. And you're coming. That's final." Lily popped her lips after applying a fresh coat of gloss, and flung her hair over her shoulder, case closed. "So I suggest that you start getting ready."

"I miss Louis," grumbled Stella as she dug around in her suitcase to find something appropriate to wear to a bonfire, "he doesn't make me do anything."

Lily poked her tongue out at her good-naturedly. "I'm going to pretend like I never heard that."

That night, after being introduced to many people who's names she would never remember, Stella found herself standing on the edge of the beach, with a cup of Muggle beer in her hand. Lily had long since disappeared, laughing and talking with the boy from the ice cream shop and his friends. She breathed in the ocean water and closed her eyes. The sound of the ocean rushed in her ears, woosh, woosh, woosh, and she could probably have stayed like that forever. When she opened her eyes, she saw thick, purply black waves glimmering under the moonlight, and a dark inky sky littered with stars and at that very moment she missed Louis so much it felt like an ache in her bones.

After a few moments, a boy came up beside her and introduced himself. "Hey," he said, hands in pockets and brown hair flopping in his eyes, "I'm Ezra." Stella never believed in fate before, but she thought it very strange that a boy showed up just as she was thinking of another.

"Stella," she said, looking over at him. He was tall, but everyone was tall compared to her. He had inquisitive green eyes and short dark lashes and a small smattering of freckles on his nose.

He ran a hand over his hair, as though he was nervous or agitated to say what he wanted to. She just held his gaze softly, waiting for him to speak.

"The thing is," he said, "the thing is, is that I've wanted to talk to you all night. So here I am. Talking to you. And I don't know what to say."

Stella laughed because no boy had ever been nervous talking to her before, not that she knew of. With Louis, it was always so comfortable. But she tried to push her best friend farther from her mind, because it was so strange to be thinking of him at a time like this, when she was on a beach in California and talking to a really cute boy.

"I guess," he said after a heartbeat of silence, "I could start by asking you where you're from? Because you definitely don't sound American."

"Nicely spotted," Stella replied easily. "No, I'm not American – far from. I grew up in England, actually."

Ezra raised his eyebrows, impressed. "England, wow. Tea and biscuits, right?"

"California, wow. Surfing and pizza, right dude?" Stella fired right back at him, trying to keep her mouth from twisting into a smile. She looked up at him to see that he was trying to contain a smile as well, and felt pride rise in her stomach.

"No, actually – I'm originally from Massachussets. Cape Cod, to be exact."

Stella nodded her head, interested. "What was it like, growing up there?"

And so the conversation began, and she listened as he told her all about life on Cape, and she told him about her time in England. His voice mixed in with the sound of the waves quite nicely, and she decided she liked the ocean.

But as she was cuddling underneath her duvet that night, she was struck with the thought of the night that she crawled into bed beside Louis, and that scared her more than she cared to admit.

* * *

author's note: the poem at the beginning of these little chapters are not mine - they belong to Sandra Cisneros. As well, I am not JK, but I think everybody knew that. Have a good day, everyone.


	3. Chapter 3

author's note: I just ate half a jar of peanuts. What am I even doing.

* * *

_there ought to be awards, and plenty of champagne for the survivors_

* * *

"_Another _date tonight?"

Stella finished putting on the last of her light pink lipstick, and grinned at Lily in the mirror.

"You've gone on more dates this whole week than I've gone on all year, and that is seriously saying something," Lily said, her nose crinkling in frustration.

"I might've been on more dates, but you've definitely_ been _with more guys," Stella replied slyly. She pinned up a piece of her dark hair and let it fall back down again, unsatisfied.

Lily chucked a pillow at her, and it nailed Stella right in the back of the head. "You calling me a whore, Nott?"

"Wouldn't dream of it, Lils."

* * *

If there was one thing to be said about Stella Nott, it was that she was not risk-taker. She followed the rules. She washed her hair every day, she made her bed every morning. She never cheated on exams. She never handed in late work, and she always used her manners.

It wasn't something she was always acutely aware of. It wasn't something that she wanted to change – it was just there. The same way the sky was blue, the same way popcorn popped – it just was. Occasionally she wanted to be more risk-taking, more daring, especially times when she saw Lily cliff-diving in the summers, or like that time when she went horsebacking riding with the Potter-Weasleys, and Dominique hopped on the horse barefoot and rode like she had done it a million times before.

But most of the time, she was not risk-taker. She was not a rule-bender.

That night, Ezra said he was taking her to a restaurant. Although they had been on a few dates during the last week, this one felt different – possibly because it was at night, and possibly because it was dinner. Stella had watched her fair share of Muggle movies to know that dinner dates were much, much more significant than lunch dates.

"So," he said after they had ordered their dinner, "tell me about yourself."

The wind blew Stella's hair gently around her face. They had opted for patio seating, overlooking the beach. Pink, orange, and purple flowers wove their way around the seats, the tables, and the railings of the patio. The sun was gently setting, and the air smelled like lemonade and rich foods. Stella thought she had never seen anything so romantic, or so luxurious.

Smiling, she looked up at Ezra. "What don't you know? I've covered most of it by now," she replied. "I really don't have any deep, dark secrets- I told you, I'm not all that interesting."

"You're plenty interesting," Ezra commented lightly. "Trust me."

She shrugged, twisting her nose. "Well, I really don't know what else to tell you that I haven't already. I think most of it's covered."

"Have you been reading anything new lately?"

At this, Stella had to reply with a yes, and launched right into the book she was currently reading. Ezra had done well in his high school English class, and he read lots of the same books that she did, and on top of that, he had enjoyed them as well. They carried on their conversation about books long after the food had come, looking to any other person a happy couple enjoying a summer night.

It was strange, Stella thought, to learn a new person. When you're little, you don't realize that you know everything there possibly is to know about a person. You don't realize that you're learning about them as you grow older. You don't aquire information about them – you just know. But when you get older, you pocket facts about people like secrets, for good or for bad.

After the fireflies and the sand fleas had come out for the night, Ezra asked her if she wanted to take walk along the beach. She liked the colours and the sounds and the smells of the dinner patio, but she said yes anyways.

Ezra took her hand as they were walking, and it felt rough and strong. She breathed in the California air, never wanting to leave. They walked for miles, Ezra stealing kisses every now and then. Eventually, they sat on a fairly deserted piece of beach.

"So," he said, as they sat down on the sand, "what next?"

Stella looked up at him, his face illuminated by moonlight. She was struck by the thought that she met him in the moonlight, and maybe now she was saying goodbye to him in the moonlight as well.

She sighed. "I don't know, Ezra. I like you – a lot. But I don't know how well you would fit in my world back home. It's complicated. And, you start college soon, here in California, and I don't know if I'm ready to drag my whole world out here. Not just yet, anyways."

Ezra lifted his eyebrow, a teasing grin on his face. "You gotta a boy back home you haven't told me about Stell?" His face relaxed into a more serious expression. "Yeah, I get it. But maybe we could try to make it work long distance?" His face was hopeful.

The first thing Stella thought was 'Louis calls me Stell.' The second was 'why am I thinking about Louis again on a date?' and the third was the realization of why she was thinking of Louis on her date, and why she hadn't stopped thinking about him all through her trip.

That realization hit her hard in the stomach, and forced her to stop breathing for a total of three seconds. All her life, she thought that it was like the books – you never really realize you're in love with someone, and then slowly, slowly you start to fall. Except for Stella, that was most definitely not how it was.

She, for the first time, was accurately aware that she was in love with Louis Weasley, her best friend since the age of eleven. And she was screwed. So, so screwed.

So she treated it like any lady would've – she curled herself into a ball and leaned her head on her date's chest (who most definitely was not Louis) and decided she'd figure it out in the morning.

* * *

"Can we leave soon?" Stella asked as she slammed the door behind her to the hotel room. Lily turned to her from her spot on the window-sill, a cigarette in hand and messy knots in her hair. Her legs were dangling outside the window, and she was kicking them in rhythm.

"Why, honey? Did your date not go well?"

Something about the way Lily called her honey made Stella want to cry. She kicked off her shoes and left them neatly by the door, and crossed the room to join Lily on the window. Swinging herself into sitting position, she let her legs dangle off the edge. Lily nudged her foot on Stella's ankle. "So?"

Stella responded by resting her head on Lily's tanned shoulder. Reaching up, she took the cigarette from her hand and took a long drag. She had only smoked once before, and had vowed never to do it again, but she longed for something else to think about. The gentle inhale and exhale of sucking on the cigarette was the best distraction. She held the smoke in her lungs and blew out slowly, before handing the white stick back to Lily.

Finally, she replied, "It was nice. I just want to go home." I want to go home to Louis, she added silently.

Lily stroked her hair. "I know, Stella, I know," she responded, like she could read all of the thoughts in Stella's mind.

They stayed like that for some time, legs tangled and hair jumbled together in a mess, and Stella thought about Louis and home, and sometimes Ezra.

* * *

In the end, she knocked on Ezra's rented apartment door, and when he opened, she didn't say anything. She merely wrapped her arms around him tightly, and stayed like that for God-knows how long. He smelled like Diet Coke and pizza and the ocean. And when it was time for her to go, she kissed him lightly on the cheek and she did not look back.

* * *

The evening of her and Lily's homecoming, all of the Weasley-Potter clan were gathered together at the Burrow in honour of their homecoming. In reality, Stella knew that the family would use just about any excuse to be together, but she didn't mind. And so, after dropping off her bags at home and spending the afternoon with her mother, she headed to the Burrow.

She had taken extra care in getting ready that afternoon, and had pulled on her favourite t-shirt with her cutoff shorts and a tiny silver necklace she had received from her grandmother on her sixteenth birthday. Even so, as she made her way up to the house that evening, she couldn't stop the nerves from jumbling in her stomach. She couldn't imagine a time when she had ever been as nervous as she was at this very moment.

She was going to tell him.

The lights were on at the Burrow, and people were everywhere, everywhere, everywhere. She could see Teddy and Victoire up in a tree, whispering secrets. James, Dominique, and Fred were all trying to fly on one broomstick, even if they were all nearly twenty and much too old to be acting in such ways. She saw Albus and Rose lying on the front lawn together, looking up at the stars, and she saw Molly reading on the patio.

But she didn't see Louis anywhere.

She was almost at the front door, greeting people and giving kisses, and answering "oh, it was lovely," to everyone's exclamation of "how was your trip," but her mind was only half-there. Just as she was making her last steps the door, it flung open and there he was.

His face beamed when he saw her, and she ran the last few steps, squealing when he lifted her up in a hug. She wrapped her arms around his neck tightly, his fingertips squeezing her so hard she could feel imprints on her back.

"I missed you, Stell," Louis whispered. He set her down on her feet, and looked at her excitedly. "You have to tell me all about your trip." He grabbed her hand and led her into the living room, where they sat on the couch, and she proceeded to tell him about her vacation.

She thought she may have saw Lily walk by and wink, but she wasn't sure – she was too caught up in conversation.

Stella had not realized how much she had missed Louis until she was right in front of her. He had always been good-looking, sure. The Veela genes made sure of that. But now, like someone waking up from a dream, she was seeing just how good-looking. The gentle curve of his eyelashes, the floppy blonde hair, it drove her heart wild.

"And you have just got to try In N' Out burgers, Louis, they are seriously to die for – trust me, you'd love them" she finished excitedly. "We have to go back one day, swear it."

"Swear it," Louis repeated, laughing, catching on easily to the game they had made up long ago, when pinky promises were much to juvenile, but they still needed something to confirm promises.

There was a silence between them, just a heartbeat of silence, and then Louis jumped in. "Okay. Okay, I have to tell you something and I'm really scared to do it, but I'm just gonna say it anyway."

Stella's heart hammered in her chest, because this was it, this was it, thank God she didn't have to say in first, this was it –

"I'm moving to Romania really soon. My Uncle Charlie offered me a job with the dragons, and I think I'm going to take it."

And that was when the stone dropped in her stomach, and a lump appeared in her throat.

She squealed and clapped her hands on the outside, and gave her friend a breathless hug, and congratulated him a million times over, but on the inside- the inside wasn't doing as well as the outside.

* * *

A few hours later, and the party had died down somewhat. Most people were outside, sipping chilled pumpkin juice (yuck) and laughing. But Stella was sitting on the kitchen counter, kicking her feet against the cabinets, and generally feeling sorry for herself.

And she hated it.

Usually, in her books, when the girl realizes how easily she is forgotten, how un in-love the boy actually is with her, Stella got bored. She got annoyed. Because hello, people, weren't there better things to worry about?

But now, as Stella was kicking her feet against the kitchen cabinets, she didn't think they were silly anymore.

She had nearly put her heart and soul on the line, she had nearly, nearly faced rejection. She had almost taken a risk. And the outcome of what might've happened if she had sickened her.

The front door slammed, and Arthur Weasley walked in, empty pitcher in hand. "Oh, hello, Stella. My apologies, I didn't see you." He smiled at her, his face worn with age, his red hair littered with grey. Stella had always liked Arthur, his kind nature, his funny fascination with all things Muggle. "Are you all right?"

Stella nodded her head. "Yes, thankyou, I'm fine."

Arthur distributed the pitcher into the sink, and turned to face her. "Don't you worry, Stella, whatever's bothering you will pass, you can be sure of that."

Stella gave him a smile, and he returned the gesture, heading back outside towards the family.

Later that night, as she watched Louis talk with Lily and Domininque, she hoped Arthur was right. Because it had only been a few days, and yet her realization had given her nothing but pain. Pain because Louis didn't see her the way she saw him,that much was clear. Because the minute Stella knew how she felt, she had come running home, but all he was doing was leaving.

How awful, she thought, to love someone who leaves.

* * *

author's note: thank you thank you for reading - my only request is that if you do choose to favourite/follow, please review. Or not, I guess, up to you. :)


	4. Chapter 4

author's note: I should be reading Gatsby, but this was begging to be written. As well, it seems as though I've got a newfound obsession for red nail polish. Useless facts aside, here is the latest instalment. Two more after this, and we're finished, I believe.

* * *

_Maybe in this season, drunk and sentimental, I'm willing to admit a part of me, crazed and kamikaze, ripe for anarchy, loves still._

* * *

Stella pushed open the door to the shed. The sun was shining hot on her back, and the leaves danced faintly in the breeze. Feeling the warm wood beneath her fingers, she let the door swing open and let it stay there as she made her way into the shed.

Two feet poked out from underneath the old Ford Anglia. Stella heard tinkling and rummaging underneath the car, and sat down on a empty crate, waiting patiently for Louis to make an appearance.

"Stella-girl? Is that you?" Louis' muffled voice came from underneath the car.

"Yeah, it's me."

Louis rolled out from underneath the car, grinning. His face and hair were covered in grease, and his plaid shirt was littered with holes. Standing up, he wiped his hands on a dirty rag that once upon a time may have been white, but all evidence of cleanliness had been wiped away.

"How's it coming?" Stella asked, gesturing to the car.

"Oh, not bad – Grandpa was right when he said he put quite a bit of magic in it, but I think we're almost good to go. A few more weeks, and I reckon we've got ourselves a pretty sweet Muggle car."

"You going to sell it?"

"Not sure. Depends on what Fred and James want to do with it, I s'pose, it's much as their project as it is mine. I don't really mind what ends up happening with it." Louis looked thoughtful for a moment. "It was just fun reversing the magic and getting it to run properly again."

"The shame that you have placed on your family by reversing the magic that has been bestowed on this car may lead to your disownment," Stella teased lightly. "I'd start learning to sleep with one eye open."

Louis laughed. "I think we're in the clear. Uncle Ron was the most cut up about it, but I think they'd said their goodbyes to the flying car a long time ago."

They rested in comfortable silence for a moment, while Louis gathered his tools and cleaned up. Stella leaned back, enjoying the sunshine, and trying not to think what would happen in three days time when he set off for Romania.

He must of sensed what she was thinking about, because Louis turned towards her and said with a mocking glare, "no thinking about that today. I will not have it." Stella held up her hands in surrender.

"Come," he said, holding out his hand to her, "why don't we go see if Gran's made something for lunch?"

They traipsed into the kitchen, Louis covered in grease, and both covered in mud from the grass, which sent Mrs Weasley into a storm of cleaning spells. The house was empty, a rarity for Stella who had only seen it filled before. It was nice, though, she decided, it had a quiet sort of calm about it. The sunshine only aided to the serenity.

They made sandwhiches for lunch, the Muggle way, with limbs tangling and laughter bubbling. Louis reached for lettuce by Stella, who reached for the bread over her head, while Mrs Weasley cut up bits of ham between them. After, they settled down at the rickety kitchen table to their food.

"You'll stay the night, then?" Mrs Weasley asked, after they were fed and lounging lazily at the table. "I haven't had any of my grandchildren stay the night in so long, and with Arthur away on business it's been awfully quiet around here."

Louis' mouth twitched. "Wasn't Lily here last weekend?"

Mrs Weasley waved him off with a flick of her hand. "Of course we'll stay the night, Mrs Weasley," Stella answered, kissing her cheek as she stood to put her plate in the sink.

And so, the day progressed in the company of Louis and Mrs Weasley, and Stella thought that it was the best way to spend a summer afternoon.

Late in the afternoon, Louis had gone back to work on the car, and Stella had set up her paints and easels in a room that once had been Charlie's long ago. It was Stella's favourite room in the entire house, simply because of the floor to wall windows. She placed an empty canvas on her easel and positioned herself to face on of the large windows. Dipping her brush into paint, she began a picture with no clear though of where she was going. She lost herself in the gentle, soothing strokes of painting for awhile, before she heard a knock on the door-frame. Swiveling on her stool she found Louis Weasley leaning against entrance to the room.

"What're you painting?" Louis asked, gesturing towards her canvas.

Stella wrinkled her nose. "I'm not sure. It looks like it's going to end up being an ocean, I think."

Louis shuffled his feet. He cleared his throat before saying, "Like the beach in California?"

"Mm, yes, a little like that. I don't know, it could end up being anywhere. We'll have to see when it's finished, I guess." She took a breath. "Louis, I –"

"Don't, Stell. Don't say goodbye yet."

"But – "

He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Oh, fine," she said, exasperated, "don't give me that look."

* * *

Stella sat in the cozy atmosphere of the Burrow. The fireplace was crackling merrily, casting a warm orange glow in the living room. Mrs. Weasley was knitting quietly by the fire, and Louis was sitting on the couch reading a book. She breathed in the moment, took in the colours and the sounds of silence in the room, and let the warmth seep deep into her bones.

Stella herself was seated on stool beside Louis, her easel set up. Dipping her paintbrush into the palette in her hand, she spread the blue gently over the canvas, adding depth to the ocean in front of her. Tilting her head, unsatisfied, she used a deeper blue and stroked the canvas lightly.

"Looks good," Louis said from behind her, nodding at her painting. She gave him a quick grin in thanks, returning to her painting. Before she could begin again, however, there was a loud crack and Rose Weasley appeared in front of the fireplace.

Her reddish brown hair was thrown messily into a ponytail. "Rose!" cried Mrs. Weasley, "what's wrong dear?" She was halfway out of her seat before there was another crack and a black haired, green-eyed teenager appeared beside Rose.

"Albus? Is everything all right?" Mrs. Weasley asked anxiously, "what's going on?"

Stella watched the scene unfold, curious, but not wanting to intrude. It was clear that she had been crying, her eyes were bloodshot and puffy. Stella exchanged a look with Louis, who merely shrugged.

"How do I put this – ah – um, well, you see, Rosie and I have been having a bit of a discussion with our parents," said Albus, "and it didn't end so well. Clearly." He shuffled his feet, looking to the ground. After a few moments, he lifted his head back up. "Do you mind if we crash here for the night, Gran? Oh, hey Lou. Hey Stella."

"Of course, Al," said Mrs Weasley immediately, "although you must let your mothers know where you are. I will not have them worrying."

"Knowing my mother, she'll be here in five minutes," Rose grumbled, angrily rubbing her eyes. She looked around the room hastily, as though wishing she were anywhere but where she was currently standing.

"It's fine, Rosie, don't worry. It's all going to be fine," Al said, looking at Rose with a mix, Stella noted, with a mix of sadness and blazing anger. Whether it was directed at Rose or the situation that still had yet to present itself, she did not know.

"No, it _not_, Al! How do you know that? Everything's always 'fine' with you but guess what! Right now, it not fine. It's far from fine. It's secrets and lies and it's not okay. I don't even know who they are anymore."

Before Al could respond or Stella could ponder on who 'they' could be, there was a crack, the loudest yet, and Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger-Weasley appeared in the living room.

The knitting, the painting, and the book were all set aside as Louis, Stella, and Mrs Weasley regarded the growing scene before them with curious apprehension.

Stella kept her eyes trained on the trio of adults in front of her. Harry looked extremely nervous, as though he had much to say but was not quite sure how to say it. Ron was scratching his nose, looking apprehensive, and Hermione had a blazing look on her face. They turned as one towards Albus and Rose, who had crossed her arms and stuck out her chin defiantly.

"Rose, what were you thinking?" Hermione cried. "Don't you realize how worried we were? Do you not realize how silly it was to go Disapparating of into the night like that?"

"Seriously, Mum, as if I would go anywhere dangerous. Al got here three seconds after I did, it's not like I would up and leave my family – oh wait," she glared menacingly at her parents and uncle, "but you would."

Hermione glared furiously at her daughter, her mouth ready with an angry retort, but Harry cut in before she could get any words out. "It's going to be fine, Hermione, we just need to all calm-"

"Don't you dare, Harry, don't you dare tell me it's fine because it's not!" Hermione said angrily. "It's far from!" Ron laid a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Louis looked at Stella with his eyebrows, Stella wrinkled her nose in return, but her head was still focused on Hermione. She had always thought the witch to be level-headed and cool, handling situations with grace and kindness. But now, Stella watched, she was yelling at the people she claimed to love most in the world, her hair was a mess and her eyes were close to tears. Yelling, it seemed, at the great Harry Potter, an act very few would dare to do. For some reason, Stella found this rather funny and had to stifle a giggle from bubbling.

"What I don't understand," Rose said, taking great, heaving breaths," what I don't understand is, why you feel the need to keep all these secrets, to keep all these lies." Harry winced at her words, and Hermione covered his hand briefly with hers. She looked at her grandmother, a wild look in her eyes. "Were they always like this?"

Mrs Weasley drew in a breath, and then let it out, as though she was struggling to find the words to say. "I- there's lots that you don't understand, Rose."

"Then help me!" Rose cried, "help me understand!" Albus took a step closer to Rose, pressing his arm into hers.

Stella's eyes moved back and forth between everyone in the room, growing increasingly more confused as time wore on, but not daring to say anything.

"Does Aunt Ginny know anything?" Rose said, dropping her tone to a fierce whisper, "does she know anything at all?"

" 'Course she does," Harry said automatically," 'course."

"How _much_?"

"Don't talk to your uncle like that," Hermione said fiercely, "don't you dare."

"Yeah, Dad, answer Rose. How much does she know?" Albus spoke up for the first time, having stayed the silent observer in most of the argument.

"She knows enough," Ron said.

"You're joking me. You're joking,' Al said flatly.

His green eyes blazed with anger, and Stella thought she had never seen him more angry. A thousand possibilities flashed through her mind as to what they could possibly be arguing about, each one more far-fetched than the last.

For awhile, no one spoke. Finally, Mrs Weasley stood up. "I don't want to the get into this. I have no desire to whatsoever. I'm going to go make some tea and then head up to bed. Rose, Albus" she said, turning her gaze to her grandchildren, "understand that your parents did their very best. It was a very hard time for them, and they kept certain things from you to keep you safe. Please, don't pressure them about this." She said the last part pleadingly, as though begging Rose and Albus not to inflict pain upon their parents. And with that, she stood and left the sitting room.

"It was a war, Rose, you have to understand – no actually, I don't expect you to. It was a dark and desperate time. It brought good and bad, but it was not anything for teenagers eyes." Hermione said softly. She bit her lip. Ron took her hand. Harry looked pained as he regarded them with soft eyes.

Ah. So this what it was about, Stella thought, the war. She looked at Louis and knew that it was time they left the five people in the living room to their privacy. They stood together and quietly left the living room, padding softly into the kitchen.

"What d'you reckon that was about?" Louis breathed softly as he bustled around the kitchen making tea for the two of them. Stella could see into the living room, could just barely make out the shadows of the fivesome, but she could not hear a word that they were uttering. She shrugged, looking up at Louis as he handed her a mug,

Accepting it gratefully, she raised it to her lips and took a sip before speaking. "Haven't a clue," she said, baffled. "Sounded like they were fighting about something that happened during the war."

Louis furrowed his brow. "But we know about the war, don't we? What's there not to know? I mean, there's still that mystery as to why Harry came back again after Voldemort killed him the second time, I suppose – but even that's got an explanation."

"His mother's enchantment, " Stella said, "it's strange, but makes sense. I wonder whether, if Voldemort cast a second curse, he would've died? Or was he always protected? I'm not sure," she trailed off, even more confused than before.

"Something seems fishy to me," Louis said, putting his mug down on the table, "but looking at the facts, of course, nothing seems fishy at all. My parents' wedding happened, Harry, Ron and Hermione went on the run, showed up a couple months later at Hogwarts, and boom, bye bye Voldy." He frowned. "I guess – I guess there's more to the story. There's that whole bit about the Elder Wand, of course, but not everybody believes that. And I don't think that's what's gotten Rose and Al so upset."

"You don't think.." Stella let her thought die off, not willing to finish the sentence. It made the tops of her ears burn just thinking about it.

"Don't think what?"

"Well, maybe," Stella said, lowering her voice to a whisper, "maybe," she traced her forefinger along the rim of her mug, trying to figure out the best way to go about her thoughts without making the situation awkward, "do you think there was some kind of.. scandal, involved, like an affair, or.." Her cheeks turned very red, she could not go on.

Louis' expression twisted. "It's possible, but no.. it doesn't fit. It doesn't make sense. I mean, Harry and Hermione have always been close, but no," he finished, shaking his head, " I don't think so."

Stella was curious, of course, but her curiousity was not burning and she told Louis as much. "I mean, if there's things that they kept from us, it would be either to protect us, or because it was just too painful for them to revisit, I'm assuming. And I'm in no position to ask. If it makes them comfortable to live they way they do after fighting a great war, so be it. They sacrificed their safety for our lives before we were even born. They deserve to keep to themselves whatever they like," she finished. She cleared her throat awkwardly after a moment, she was not one for passionate outbursts. Awkwardly, she picked a stray thread off of her skirt, not wanting to meet Louis' eyes.

When she did, however, she was surprised to see a hint of admiration lurking beneath his blue irises. "That," he said calmly, "is why you are my favourite, Stella Nott." Her cheeks burned under his gaze, but before she could respond, Albus and Rose burst into the kitchen. Fresh tears streaked on Rose's face, and Albus was rubbing comforting circles on her back, looking dazed.

They sat at the table, and Stella duplicated their mugs of tea, sliding them towards the duo. Rose looked up at Stella gratefully. "Thanks," she whispered, taking a seat. "It's been – a weird night, I s'pose, I just.." she trailed off, looking tiredly into her mug of hot liquid.

Stella nodded her head sympathetically. "It's okay, Rose," she said softly.

* * *

The clock struck midnight. Stella was still sitting at the table, her tea now stone cold. She was going to head up to bed with the others, but had felt not a lick of exhaustion, and so she had sent the other three up with a simple, "I'll be there soon." Harry, Ron and Hermione had slipped into a more private room upstairs in which to talk.

That had been two hours ago, and she was still sitting at the table, fiddling with her mug, wondering why in the world tiredness hadn't washed over her yet. Her mind was still buzzing with the scene that had unfolded previously.

If she was completely honest with herself, she knew what she was wrestling with. Oftentimes throughout her life, she had regarded the Potter-Weasley family one of towering strength. A family of chocolate kisses and messy laughter mixed with cool twilight evenings and catching fireflies. A family of love. And no one, she often observed, looked more content during these moments than Harry Potter himself.

And yet, she thought, and yet, tonight there was not a trace of the warm, happy love that had so often infiltrated the Burrow. The actions that had occurred were not happy, they were not comfortable. And yet, Stella had looked into the eyes of Harry and seen love still, as he regarded his son and his niece. A fierce love.

And she thought of Louis, and how he was leaving in three days, and she thought that maybe, even if it didn't bring her the warmth and the happiness that keeping him here would bring, it would be the best way to love him.

The possibility ached in her bones and made her want to cry, but she refused any more tears to come. A pair of footsteps could be heard on the stairs, but Stella didn't turn around, rather waited for the person to reveal themself.

"Oh, Stella, I didn't realize you were still up – I'm sorry to intrude," Hermione said. Stella twisted in her seat towards Hermione, giving her a small smile. "That's all right."

Hermione moved lightly around the kitchen, taking a mug down from the shelf and making herself tea. She brought the tea with her to the seat that was across from Stella, taking small sips.

Stella regarded the older witch with a mixture of admiration and apprehension. She had always admired Hermione for her loyalty to her friends and for her generous acts towards making the wizarding world a better place, but she had never been alone with her before – not like this, anyways.

"Hermione," she said slowly, unsure of what to say, " er- are you okay?"

Hermione looked up at Stella, and she could see that her eyes were bloodshot and puffy, much like her daughter's had been earlier. "Oh, I''m fine," Hermione said kindly. "Rose is a headstrong girl, of course, but we all knew that. It's just – some things are better left unsaid, I suppose."

Stella remained quiet, unsure if Hermione wanted to go on. To her surprise, she did.

"And Harry's always had a soft spot for those two, what with Rose being Ron and mine's first, I guess, and Albus being so like himself, but I just – I don't think it's appropriate at all, for them to realize, they wouldn't understand.." Hermione trailed off, looking at Stella with apologetic eyes. "I'm sorry, dear, you probably don't want to hear this right now."

"No, it's all right," Stella said. Taking a breath and leap of faith, she asked, "Hermione –if you don't mind me asking – what is Rose so upset about, exactly?"

Hermione blew softly on her tea. "Just – just a bit of information we've withheld from her for a long time. A bit that we've withheld from most for a long time." She seemed to be struggling with her words, not wanting to reveal too much. "Some bits will never come out, Stella, and I guess she doesn't agree with that. But that was decided years ago and none of us – well, we don't feel much like going back on that word. Do you understand?"

Stella nodded her head.

"The best I can do right now, I suppose, is to love her and try to understand her side," Hermione said, "which has never been hard at all." She took another sip of tea before regarding Stella again.

"If I may, Stella, offer you one bit of advice." Stella nodded again, intrigued as to what Hermione had to say. "If there's one thing I learned during my lifetime, it's don't stop loving people. Don't give up. Even when it feels wrong and desperate and as though nothing will ever be right again." Hermione gave a small smile. Just then, there was more heavy footfalls on the stairs behind Stella's head, and she turned to see Harry and Ron coming down the stairs in what seemed to be a silent race to the bottom. They looked as though they were trying to contain their laughter and silent bursts of air escaped them, as they elbowed and shoved each other on the way down.

Stella turned her gaze back to Hermione, whose features had formed into an expression of contentment as she regarded the two. Stella was the silent observer as she watched Ron kiss her cheek and Harry place her empty mug of tea in the sink.

And Stella understood.

* * *

As swiftly as autumn turns to winter, Louis was gone. In the days that followed, Stella refused to get out of bed. She would spend the days lying down, her head buried deep into her soft pillows, her eyes shut tight. She refused food, and she ignored her mother's pleads to come out of her room.

In the end, it was Lily, always Lily, who dragged her out of her funk. She forced her to eat something, sitting on her bed and refusing to move until Stella had swallowed a few strawberries.

Their legs tangled together in the massive white duvet, and Lily held Stella while she cried. "It's just hard," Stella whispered, "it's just hard."

Lily sat with her for days, until Stella finally wiped her eyes with her wrists. She looked at Lily right in the eyes, the same eyes that Louis had, the same Weasley blue, but she forced herself out of her tears. The words of Hermione still rang in her ears, but Stella found while it was hard to love someone so far away, it was harder to stop loving them.

She found herself part-time work at Madame Malkin's, and passed the days in motions. She rose and worked, ate dinner with her mum, slept, and repeated. Some days she ate dinner at the Potters, with Lily, and James and Albus always knew what to say to make her smile. Those were the best nights, when she was with the Potters, or when Dominique came by the shop and forced her into a coffee date. Those bits were like little rays of sunshine peeking through an otherwise very dreary, very long day.

* * *

author's note: there you have it. I'm thinking of turning the fight between Rose and Albus, and Harry, Ron and Hermione into a one shot, but I'm not sure yet. Maybe one day. If you're confused as to what they're fighting about, it's the Horcruxes. My head-canon says the three of them only told a few people - and they never breathed a word to their children. Personal opinion, keep in mind. Review if you feel like it, and have a fab day.


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